Slytherins 'do it' Better
by Niji Suta-Raito
Summary: What happens when a useless Gryffindor talks about shagging? Alot! Drarry. ONESHOT. I don't own any of this. Not even the awesome sweater. If anyone wants to know what the graffiti on Harry's shirt says just send me a message. PLEASE REVIEW. PRETTY PLEASE


Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Both people you would expect not to be friends. But of course after Harry had saved Draco's life, twice, and the both had been made teachers by Severus Snape, they thought it easier to be friends. Draco was now in charge of Potions class, and Harry of DADA. The two of them being the type to not care if they were late for teaching had decided to take a stroll around the black lake.

"I do believe we are the youngest teachers to ever teach at hog-,"began Harry.

"P-P-P-P-P-P-Professor P-P-P-P-P-Potter," stuttered a young Gryffindor boy who had just walked up to Harry and Draco.

"Oh My…God," Draco stated, a pause in between My and God so he could avoid swearing in front of the child. "It's a miniature Quirrel."

"I noticed." Under his breath Harry whispered, "Good thing he isn't wearing a turban."

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-who?" Questioned the young Gryffindor.

"No one of importance. Please, call me Harry."

"P-P-P-Professor H-H-H-Harry, can I-I-I Ha-."

"No, no, no its Harry, just Harry. Professor makes me feel old, and I'm only 18."

"H-H-H-H-Harry, c-c-c-can I h-h-have a auto-autograph?"

"No."

"Pl-plea-."

"No."

"B-b-b-b-b-but I D-d-d-didn't eve-."

"No. Now get to class. Your already," Harry paused to check his watch, "fifteen minutes late." The little Gryffindor ran off at these words.

"Don't like the fame much do you, Professor Potter?" Draco pronounced. A smirk on his face and a snicker in his throat.

"No. Despise it actually," Harry said, half listening to what Draco had said. But when said blonde started giggling his arse off Harry took the time to process what the young man had said. "Hey!" he cried, having finally caught on to the insults, or rather the insult that has been said only moments ago. When he noticed that Draco hadn't been listening to him either, being too busy laughing like an idiot to notice, he muttered, "Ponce."

Draco stood immediately at this, "I'm not a ponce, you wanker."

Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed at him drawling playfully, "And I'm the Minister of Magic."

The blonde glared maliciously at him. "Don't use sarcasm. It's to Slytherin-esque for a Gryffindor," He paused, looking like he'd much enjoy punching his college in the mouth. "And I'm not a ponce, God Damn it!"

"You are too."

"Am not!"

Harry felt much the same urge that Draco had felt only moments before. "Merlin's hairy balls, Malfoy, you're a fashion whore and your absofuckinglutly obsessed with your hair!"

"Don't use Merlin's balls against me, you pillock. And I'm not obsessed with my hair."

Harry's green eyes Flickered amusedly before he draped a thin arm around his college's shoulders and pulled him into a headlock. His other, unoccupied, arm found it's way to Draco's hair, wound itself in-it was surprisingly silky what with all the gel one would have thought the blonde would have used to get his hair all slicked back like that-and moved back and forth, thoroughly tousling his hair. Harry released him and waited for the angry retort, not noticing the red ears that his companion sported as a result of there closeness.

Draco spluttered out various in various languages before he managed to say a nearly comprehensible sentence, "you-you-you bloody fucking pillock! I'm going to-you son of a bitch-I fucking-MY HAIR POTTER!"

Harry smirked a little wider at the furious face of his fellow professor, and was about to send another witty retort his way, if not for the brave, brave seventh year, a Gryffindor that neither one of them really cared about, came up to them and asked the question everyone thought, but no one had the balls to actually ask: "Why don't you two just shag already and stop all the mindless foreplay," the girl fingered the air for emphasis," I mean, with all the passion between you two, you guys could have been having mind-blowing sex for years!"

The two were silent for a few minutes, and then, the question that would seal the thrice-be-damned Gryffindor's fate. By none other than Harry James Potter. "Do you want to kill her or shall I?"

Silver met green as the two locked eyes. "I'll let you do the honors, as long as I get to push her dead body down every one of the staircases, afterward. Deal?

Harry nodded, and the poor Gryffindor that nobody cared about and nobody knew her name gulped.

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After the messy process of dumping the body, explaining to Severus why there was a dead body in Madame Pomfrey's conveniently placed morgue that nobody actually knew was there until now(And he believed every word that the two told him, really he did,) and arrived at their respective second period classes(because the first had been taken up by irritating, miniature Quirrels, arguments, and killing of idiot Gryffindors who were too idiotic to even mention,) It was only then that the two actually began wondering what  mind-blowing sex with the other would actually be like, Harry started banging his head on a desk and Draco tried to drown himself in a potion. Both failed to actually kill themselves however.

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Having fuck all else to do and not feeling like teaching, Harry headed down to the great hall for an early lunch. To his surprise Draco was already sitting at the head's table. "Skipping class are we, Professor Malfoy? And not wearing your robes either, now are we?" Harry stated in his best Severus impression. He walked around the table to stand behind Draco.

Draco, being the dumbass he is looked all around the great hall and sputtered, "Uh, um, No sir, Severus I…um…uh."

"Draco you ponce its only me," Harry laughed as he sat down beside the blonde.

"Not funny Potter," mumbled the blonde as he shoved mince meat pie into his mouth.

The bespectacled boy turned to his college, "You know what, that's a good idea."

"What's a good idea?"

"Not wearing robes," The professor through off his robes at this statement. He had adorned a tight black shirt with unreadable graffiti writing and black skinny jeans underneath.

"Nice pants there Harry."

"And that comment would be the reason you're a ponce Draco. Now if you'll excuse me, your pig-esque eating is making me quite sick. I think I shall take a walk around the lake, before I barf." The messy haired man stood and pushed his chair in.

He was half-way to the door before the blond yelled for him to wait up. The two professors walked side-by-side along the bank of the lake, once again. Both still thinking about what the seventh year Gryffindor had said. The black haired boy could not stop thinking about how Draco was hot and that he wouldn't mind shagging the blonde, but that would only happen if the apocalypse happened. It just so happened that the blonde thought the same things.

"Damn its freezing," Harry mumbled.

"Here, take this," the blonde handed him a sweater.

"No. Then you'll be cold." The bespectacled boy shoved the sweater back into Draco's arms.

"When you've spent most of the last seven years in the Slytherin dungeons you don't get cold. Now take the god damn sweater before you freeze your ass off." 'And oh what a nice ass it is,' thought the blonde.

"Fine," Harry stammered through chattering teeth. He was about to put the black zip-up sweater on when he notice that something was stitched into the back. "Slytherins 'do it' Better. Does that mean what I think it means?" questioned the boy.

"Depends on what you think it means," A wide smirk had spread across the ex-Slytherin's face.

"You little pervert."

"I'm not a pervert. At least I didn't say that I've been wanting to ask you if you want to take the Gryffindors advi-God damn it!!"

"I knew you were a ponce! It doesn't help that I was going to ask if you wanted to go shag though.But back to what I was going to say, lets go." The bespectacled boy grabbed the blonde's hand and began to run toward the whomping willow.

"Were are we going."

"I just told you. To a spot were we can shag and no one will find us." Harry picked up a stick and poked the knot on the tree that would stop the branches from flailing.

And with that the bespecatled boy and the blonde went off the have there mind-blowing sex. If it hadn't been for the seventh year Gryffindor that no one cared about or knew the name of these two boys would never have realized what they had been missing. Thank heavens for useless, only mentioned once characters. The only thing left that I can not explain is were Draco got the sweater. I guess we will never know.


End file.
